Robin Lee Hatcher Read Online Free

Remington Walker.”
    “It’s Miss Blue.”
    So there wasn’t a husband after all. That was good news.
    “What brought you to my ranch, Mr. Walker?”
    Only a very few folks had ever fooled Remington. Libby Blue, as she called herself, wasn’t going to be one of them. He called upon his ability to read people and saw intelligence in her eyes, as well as a healthy dose of caution and a dash of distrust. He also sensed an innate honesty.
    Fortunately Remington wasn’t troubled by his conscience when it came to fabricating identities or histories for himself. When tracking down fugitives, one was required to do or say many things an otherwise honest person wouldn’t do or say. He’d been hired to take Olivia Vanderhoff back to New York, and if that meant earning her trust through lies, so be it.
    He feigned a self-deprecating chuckle. “I thought it was sheer luck that I stumbled onto this place, until you shot me.”
    The blush in her cheeks deepened, but her gaze didn’t waver.
    “I was lost, Miss Blue. I was in the territorial capital on business and decided I’d have a look at the country before returning to my home. I had a map and thought I could head off into the wilderness, explore a bit of the territory, then find my way back, none the worse for wear. As you’ve no doubt guessed, I lost my way. But then I came across your place.”
    “Why didn’t you ride up in the open where you could be seen?” Her eyes narrowed. “Why’d you leave your horse in the trees and come to the house carrying a rifle?”
    “Bad judgment on my part.”
    He could tell she weighed his words carefully. Then the suspicion left her gaze, and a hint of her pretty smile touched the corners of her mouth again.
    “You’re not from around here, Mr. Walker. I can tell by your accent. Where are you from?”
    “I was born and raised in Virginia, ma’am.” Like the name he’d given, that was the truth.
    “Well, I suggest you return there as soon as you’re able to travel.” She rose from the chair, her expression stern but her tone teasing. “We do things a bit differently here in Idaho.”
    “Shoot first?” Remington rested the palm of his right hand on his left side. “I noticed.” Then he grinned to take the sting out of his words.
    Libby’s pulse quickened. Alarmed by her reaction to his smile, she stepped toward the door. “You must be hungry. There’s a kettle of stew on the stove. I’ll bring you some broth. You need food in your stomach.” She hurried out of the bedroom.
    Never trust a stranger. Never. I know better. Don’t trust him, no matter what.
    Keeping her guard up was a rule that had served her well for over six years. It was a rule she couldn’t afford to abandon—not even for this particular stranger’s devastating smile.
    Unbidden, unwanted, the memory of her father intruded. A regal man with steel-gray hair and eyes to match. A man who bought and sold people the same way he bought and sold property or ships or anything else. A man for whom everything and everyone had a price. Even his daughter. She was to have brought him the southern railroad he coveted
for so many years.
    Libby closed her eyes as she leaned against the sideboard. She didn’t want to think about her father. To do so only made her unhappy. She couldn’t change who he was or how little she’d meant to him.
    Her mother’s image drifted into her thoughts, and Libby felt the sting of tears. “Oh, Mama,” she whispered, her heart aching.
    She wondered if her mother knew she was all right. Dan Deevers had mailed Libby’s letter from Cheyenne when he was there last year, but she couldn’t know if Anna Vanderhoff received it. It had been a foolish thing to do, writing to her mother after years of careful silence. But Amanda Blue’s death brought loneliness, and Libby missed her mother with a keen freshness.
    Libby sniffed and opened her eyes. She was being melodramatic. The Lord had given her a good life here at the Blue